Milestones
by VenicePlace
Summary: The paramedics encounter a series of milestones during the weekend Roy DeSoto first invited John Gage to meet his family over dinner.


**Milestones**

by VenicePlace©

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_Author's note: I would like to express my everlasting gratitude to Bebe Anne, my priceless beta reader, expert editor and above all, self-appointed number one fan. Your unrelenting support throughout this undertaking helped me translate into words the scenes the boys at station 51 insisted on playing over and over in my head. For this I am grateful even though I still blame you a little for sowing the 'what if?' seed in the first place!_

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_Friday, May 19, 1972_

The members of station 51's A-shift, minus Roy DeSoto, were gathered in the locker room, getting ready to tackle their last shift before setting out for a full two-day weekend. On _A.M. Los Angeles_, George Fishbeck had predicted mild temperatures consistent with mid-May averages, heralding the ephemeral balmy spring period before the days would take on the desert-like quality of the brushfire season. The morning chat flowed lightly as each man disclosed his plans for his upcoming days off.

"Good morning guys," Roy greeted his co-workers as he strode into the room ten minutes before seven o'clock.

"Good morning, Roy," each of the A-shift members hailed back.

Walking past his own locker, Roy headed to the other side of the row and stopped next to his seated partner.

"Here you go, partner," Roy said as he planted a folded sheet of paper on Johnny's lap.

"What's this?"

"It's an engraved invitation from Joanne."

Puzzled, Johnny unfolded the blue piece of paper and scanned the hand-written message while Roy went back to his locker to change into his uniform.

"You're inviting me to come over to your house for dinner?"

"Yeah."

"Aw, Gage. Roy is finally taking you home to meet the folks," Chet Kelly teased from his appointed locker. "This must be the most serious relationship you've had in a while."

His comments earned a few chuckles from Marco and Mike who were putting the finishing touches to their uniforms.

"Well, Chet," Johnny replied, tying up his shoelaces, "maybe Roy feels I'm the only one of the crew he can bring home who won't embarrass himself in front of his family."

"Or maybe," Chet countered in an almost sing-song voice, "Roy's kids need a playmate and you're the one who's closer to them in mental age."

Johnny only glared at the stocky fireman in response.

"Personally, I think Joanne wants to have a close-up look at the person who's supposed to watch my back in a fire," Roy chimed in good-naturedly as Lopez, Stoker and Kelly filed out of the room, laughing quietly at their comrade's uncommon banter.

"Really?" said the dark-haired paramedic once they were left alone in the locker room. Hurt and disappointment must have transpired in his voice because his partner offered him a reassuring look.

"No, not really. Don't get your turnouts in a twist, Junior, it's only dinner. Joanne wants to know you better and this way you'll have the chance to meet the rest of the family." Roy straightened up and closed the door of his locker. "You can make it on Sunday, can't you?"

"Yeah, sure, I'll be there," Johnny said with a lopsided grin.

Roy moved to join the rest of the crew that were already assembled in the apparatus bay for the mandatory roll call while Johnny remained seated in front of his locker, re-reading the note his partner had given him. As Roy was about to cross into the engine bay, Johnny called after him.

"Hey, Roy?"

Roy retraced his steps back to his partner and poked his head around the row of lockers.

"Yeah?"

"Tell Joanne thanks," he said simply, waving the letter as way of explanation.

"Sure."

Johnny carefully folded the sheet of paper and tucked it with the rest of his personal effects in the bottom drawer of his locker. He was still beaming widely when Captain Van Orden's voice boomed from the other room.

"Gage, roll call. Now!"

The young firefighter grabbed his hat and scurried to the apparatus bay. As he slipped in his usual spot under the glare of his superior, he heard Chet Kelly's hushed statement.

"He was probably waiting for a written invitation."

*******

The call came through shortly after dinner of a relatively calm day. Roy had been helping Johnny wash the dishes when station 51 was dispatched to the scene of a train accident with injury on the Southern Pacific railroad tracks located near South Alameda Street, a few miles north of the Dominguez Junction. As they rode glumly towards the accident site, the paramedics tried to mentally prepare themselves for the desolate scenethat most likely awaited them.

Upon arrival, Roy parked the squad fifty feet away from the point of impact. As the paramedics stepped out of the squad and gathered the necessary equipment, they assessed the scene that was displayed before them. Bathed in the eerie glow of flashing red lights of several emergency vehicles, the freight train had come to a stop and the engine stood almost a hundred feet from the collision site. A police cruiser was already present on the scene and one deputy sheriff was kneeling next to a small form partly covered with a yellow sheet. Standing next to the police car, his partner was talking to a man—probably the train engineer—who was seated in the passenger seat. The paramedics supposed that the officer was writing down the engineer's statement. Spotting Johnny, the policeman waved him over. Johnny picked up the defibrillator, the biophone and the trauma box, notified his partner of where he was going and sprinted towards the squad car.

As Roy grabbed the drug box and the oxygen, Engine 51 came to a halt behind him. Captain Van Orden jumped down from the cab and addressed his senior paramedic.

"How bad is it, DeSoto?"

"Train vs. pedestrian, Cap," Roy said grimly while adjusting the weight of the equipment under his arms. "Looks like the engineer might be shocky and there's at least one victim from the impact but I don't know how bad it is, yet."

The fire captain gave a brief nod and let out a sigh. They all knew just how bad it might be.

"Let me know if you need help," the captain said, dismissing his paramedic and turning to the rest of his team. "Kelly, go and make sure the engine is secured. Lopez, prepare the porta-power and the K-12 in case we need extrication measures." The fire captain grabbed his handie-talkie and pressed down on the communication knob. "L.A., engine 51." When the dispatcher acknowledged the call, Van Orden continued, "L.A. contact transport authorities and have them stop all transport on this line." Once his request had been granted, the captain returned his handie-talkie to his turnout coat pocket. The last thing he wanted was another train crashing into this mess.

Once he had been dismissed by his superior, Roy jogged to the accident scene and approached the officer hunkered down next to the victim. Part of the body under the yellow sheet lay perpendicular to the railway tracks and Roy guessed from the outline under the sheet, that part of it still lay across the railway.

"What have you got, Vince?" he asked, putting the equipment down on the ground.

The black man rose from his crouched position and from the look on the deputy's face, Roy wondered if his help would be needed after all.

"Ten-year-old girl, she was playing after school and fell down on the tracks when the train rolled over her legs. She's been unconscious since I got here. Her parents have been notified and they'll meet her at the hospital. You have parental consent to treat her." The deputy laid a warning hand on the paramedic's arm. "It's not pretty, Roy."

Roy's stomach churned at the picture his mind involuntarily conjured of the mangled body he would find pinned under the heap of steel. He took a steadying breath and once he was reassured that he had regained his professional composure he knelt besides the victim and removed his helmet. He lifted up the blanket and began his assessment.

From the thighs up, the girl looked almost unscathed. Her long blond locks framed her pale and sweaty face. Her cotton dress was drenched in blood though a quick exam couldn't account for any external injury on her torso. Roy forced himself to lower his gaze and noticed that both of her lower legs lay under the train, completely detached from the rest of the small body. Her knees had been wrapped with disposable sheets in an attempt to staunch the bleeding but the red fluid was fast soaking through the yellow cloth. Roy shot an inquisitive look at the deputy.

"I wrapped the legs as best I could until you got here," the policeman explained. I hope it was enough."

"I hope so, too," Roy replied turning his attention back to his patient.

He delicately rested his fingers on the little girl's wrist, happy, yet amazed to find a weak and rapid pulse.

Roy turned back to Vince, grabbed his sleeve and pulled him down to his side. "Put the heel of your hands here," the paramedic said, guiding the deputy's hands in the crook of the girl's thighs over her femoral arteries. "And press hard."

Roy turned around and located his partner who was still tending to the engineer next to the police cruiser. "Johnny, I need you!" Roy yelled over his shoulder, hoping that his voice didn't betray the panic he was increasingly feeling. "And bring your gear, will you."

Adjusting the oxygen flow to ten litres per minute, Roy grabbed a child's mask and covered the little girl's mouth and nose with it. He looked back over his shoulder to monitor his partner's progress. The train engineer was now lying down on the ground with his feet elevated, his body covered with a disposable blanket in order to ward off shock. Spotting the rubber tube of the dextrose solution IV line protruding from under the yellow fabric, Roy inferred that Johnny had already contacted Rampart hospital. He looked on anxiously as his partner instructed Chet regarding the care of the fallen man until the other squad arrived before grabbing the requested equipment and hurrying towards the train.

"I need you to tie tourniquets on both legs," Roy instructed his partner as soon as Johnny appeared at his side.

The dark haired paramedic complied, tying rubber straps around both thighs, eliminating the need to apply the arterial compression carried out until now by the deputy. Johnny reached inside the drug box and retrieved the BP cuff and a stethoscope. As Johnny prepared to take the victim's vital signs, Roy snatched the items from his hands.

"Go tell the captain we're gonna need a helicopter to fly her out to the hospital," Roy directed while wrapping the cuff around the girl's tiny arm.

Johnny paused, considering his partner briefly. "Okay," he finally replied, jogging towards the fire engine.

Roy frowned as he took note of the low pressure reading. His thoughts were interrupted by a low moan. He quickly wrote down the vital signs in his notepad and shifted his body so that he remained in the girl's sight.

"Can you hear me, honey?" he asked, shining his pen light into each eye.

When the girl didn't respond but moaned again, Roy lightly shook her shoulder and reiterated his question.

"Hurt…," came the tearful reply. "My legs hurt…"

"I know, honey. I'm going to take good care of you until we get you to the hospital," the paramedic said, plastering his best reassuring smile on his face and gently squeezing the girl's hand. "What's your name?"

"Jennifer… Jennifer Stowe."

Roy fought to maintain his composure and swallowed the bile rising in his throat before asking the next question. "Is it okay if I call you Jenny?"

Jennifer nodded, and then she shifted her gaze side to side, apparently seeking something and becoming increasingly upset.

"Mommy?" she asked in a high-pitched voice.

Roy placed a comforting hand on the girl's forehead and looked directly in her eyes. "It's okay, Jenny, your mom will meet you at the hospital. That's where we'll be going very soon. You'll feel better soon, you'll see."

"C-cold…" the girl murmured, looking at Roy through half-closed eyelids.

Roy removed his turnout coat and tenderly placed it over the girl's torso, tucking the collar under her chin. The gesture seemed to appease the little girl and she stopped stirring under the paramedic's light touch. Roy felt the little body relax as Jennifer lost consciousness.

When Johnny returned from his errand followed by their superior, Roy handed his partner the piece of paper denoting the latest vital signs readings. Johnny grabbed the biophone and proceeded to contact Rampart hospital to relay the information while Roy started to unwrap the yellow sheet from the girl's stubbed limbs.

"DeSoto, the helicopter's ETA is five minutes," Captain Van Orden said, placing a firm hand on his paramedic's shoulder. "I also called for another squad and an ambulance. Gage can finish up here, why don't you accompany the engineer to the hospital…"

"No," Roy said, without lifting his eyes from his task. "I'm taking care of Jenny and I'm the one going with her in the helicopter." The paramedic roughly brushed the back of his hand across his upper lip.

Captain Van Orden shot Johnny a questioning look. The young man glanced from his partner to his superior and at last, just shrugged his shoulders. Though visibly upset, his partner's skills and judgement, in his opinion, were still intact.

The fire captain remained in place for a few seconds, seemingly debating with himself the justification of forcibly pulling his senior paramedic from his duty, but before he could voice his concerns, Dr. Brackett's voice came over the biophone.

"We read you, squad 51. What have you got?"

"Rampart, the second victim is a ten-year-old female victim of a train accident. Victim's legs were both severed below the knees. She lost a considerable amount of blood. We have applied tourniquets and we are applying pressure bandages on the limbs. No other signs of trauma are visible. Her skin is pale and diaphoretic. Vitals are," Johnny squinted to read the piece of paper Roy had handed him, "blood pressure: 80 over 50, pulse rate: 120, weak and thready, respirations: 36 and shallow. Victim shows signs of shock and LOC varies between semi-consciousness and unconsciousness. Also, be advised that we have parental consent for treatment."

During the brief silence that followed, Johnny imagined Brackett exchanging stunned looks with Dixie McCall at the incredible odds of survival facing the victim.

"Squad 51, insert immediate IV, normal saline with Ringer's Lactate, wide open, in both arms. Also, bring back the amputated limbs if possible. Has the ambulance arrived, yet?"

"Negative, Rampart. We will be transporting by helicopter. ETA is five minutes."

"Transport as soon as you can, 51. Relay vital signs every five minutes. We will be waiting for you on the landing pad."

"10-4, Rampart."

Reassured that his paramedic team had the situation under control, Captain Van Orden headed back to the engine, checking in again with dispatch on the status of the requested emergency vehicles.

Johnny dropped the receiver and reached in the trauma box to retrieve two pressure bandages. He moved over to Roy to take care of the dressings but raised an eyebrow when the senior paramedic didn't budge from his place.

"Take care of the IV, I've got it," Roy commanded, grabbing one envelope from his partner's hand.

"Roy, I..." the dark-haired paramedic began.

"I said, I've got it," Roy repeated through clenched teeth, without looking at his partner. He unfolded the white gauze and wrapped it tightly around the jagged extremity. Though the arterial bleeding had been mostly controlled by the tourniquet, blood still seeped through the dressing.

Johnny had finished inserting the first IV when a muffled exclamation made him look over to his partner. Unlike the left leg, bleeding in the victim's right leg had not completely stopped and when Roy had removed the sheet, the artery had started haemorrhaging again. Bright red blood gushed in long spurts, coating Roy's arms and shirt. Johnny hastily reached over and pressed down hard on Jenny's femoral pressure point with both hands while Roy hurried to tighten the tourniquet. Once the blood flow had significantly decreased, Roy applied a pressure bandage while Johnny took another set of vitals.

As Roy reached for the biophone to re-establish contact with the hospital base in order to relay the updated information on their victim, Johnny finished inserting the second IV line. Waiting for Rampart to acknowledge the call, Roy watched as the helicopter landed several feet behind the fire engine. Squad 110 had already come and gone, the paramedics having taken care of the shaken engineer's transport to the hospital.

Roy was startled when he heard Brackett's voice over the radio. "Squad 51, this is Rampart. What is your status?"

"Rampart, be advised that victim has sustained further arterial haemorrhaging which is now under control. Here are updated vitals. BP is 60 over 40, pulse is still weak and thready, respirations: 30 and shallow. Both IVs have been established and victim is still unconscious. Helicopter has landed, we are ready for transport."

"10-4, Squad 51. Transport immediately."

"10-4."

At Johnny's request, Chet Kelly and Marco Lopez had brought over a stokes stretcher and the four firemen had made a quick job of loading Jennifer into the piece of equipment. In the meantime, Johnny had poured saline solution over the little girl's discarded limbs and had carefully wrapped them in sterile sheets. When Roy climbed aboard the helicopter, Johnny handed him the gruesome package.

"Want me to go instead?" Johnny yelled in order to be heard over the helicopter's engine.

"No, I'm fine," Roy replied, extending blood-streaked hands to take the bundle. He forced a tired smile that didn't reach his eyes. "See you back at the hospital."

Johnny winked in response, letting his customary grin be the last thing his partner saw as the helicopter disappeared upwards in a cloud of dust.

Johnny was still following the helicopter's outline when the captain stopped at his side.

"How does it look, Gage?"

Johnny's anxious gaze drifted from the copter that carried his partner and the little girl under his care to his superior. He let out a dejected sigh. "Not good, Cap," he answered honestly.

***

Johnny pulled in the emergency entrance of Rampart hospital twenty-five minutes after leaving the accident scene. Carrying the HT, he made his way through the hospital corridors in search of his partner. He stopped his progression when he noticed that Dixie McCall was sitting behind the ER admission desk.

"Hey, Dix," Johnny greeted as he leaned forward, planting his elbows firmly on the countertop.

"Hi, Johnny. What's up?"

"Keeping busy, ya know."

Dixie chuckled at the young man's understatement. She knew just how much the paramedic duo kept busy because they always brought her all their business.

"How are the patients we brought in?"

"Well, the engineer suffered from severe shock, but we managed to stabilize him," she explained while filling out the patient chart in her hand. "He's resting."

"And the little girl?" Johnny asked guardedly, knowing deep down that the odds of survival were too overwhelming.

Dixie gave the young paramedic a sympathetic look and slightly shook her head. "Her vital signs kept dropping during transport. Kell worked really hard but in the end there was nothing anybody could do," she stressed, gently squeezing the paramedic's hand. "The trauma was just too much for such a small body. Frankly, I'm surprised she lasted that long."

Johnny acknowledged the head nurse's words with a sad nod, not trusting his voice at the moment. It was always hard to lose patients, but it was most especially hard today because this was the first time they had lost a child despite their best efforts to save her. This was a milestone he could have lived without for the rest of his life.

Realizing that he had yet to see his partner, Johnny turned his attention back to the head nurse.

"Where's Roy?"

"Treatment room 2," she answered quietly, peering intently into the paramedic's brown eyes.

The young paramedic nodded knowingly and squeezed the nurse's hand before setting out for the treatment room in search of his missing partner. Once he reached his destination, Johnny slowly opened the door and peered inside.

The room in which commotion, urgency and tragedy had most likely transpired moments before had been restored to an eerie stillness. Blood-soaked gauze littered the floor as well as various discarded syringes and other medical paraphernalia. Two IV poles had been brought up against the examination table; from one hung what Johnny recognized as the two saline IVs he had inserted in the victim's arms at the accident scene, while an almost empty bag of whole blood was suspended from the other. Looking down, the paramedic noticed that the lines had been pulled out, the cannulae trailing uselessly on the floor. Johnny swallowed the lump in his throat when his gaze was drawn to the small bulge stretched out under a sheet on the exam table. He noticed the student nurse for the first time when she stirred in the corner of the room. Sensing the presence of another person, the trainee raised her head, ready to chase any unauthorized intruder away. When she recognized Johnny's uniform she shot the paramedic a quizzical look.

"Have you seen my red-headed partner?" Johnny asked with forced cheerfulness to steer her attention away from his watery eyes.

"He helped me clean her up," she said, pointing to the table. "He left a few minutes ago. I think he went to the men's room." She paused. "He needed to wash up as well."

Johnny nodded, recalling the way his partner's torso had been covered in blood at the rescue scene. He let the door close behind him and crossed the hallway to the washroom. When he walked in the brightly lit space he immediately spotted his partner bent over the last sink on the far end, his head leaning against the tarnished mirror. His turnout coat had been dumped unceremoniously in a heap at his feet. Johnny noted that even though Roy had successfully rinsed off the blood from his arms and hands, his soiled shirt stood out as a grim reminder of their earlier encounter. The hot water faucet was fully turned on and wisps of steam were drifting up around the fireman's head. From the reflection in the fogged up mirror, Johnny could tell that Roy's eyes were shut tightly in a futile attempt to eradicate what he estimated to be a severe headache.

"Roy?"

The voice startled the senior paramedic and he spun his head around towards the doorway. The sudden movement only exacerbated the pain in his head and he had to squint to identify the intruder. His body relaxed slightly when he recognized his partner's silhouette. Roy turned off the hot water and simultaneously turned on the cold water. Ignoring Johnny's presence he liberally splashed the cool liquid on his face.

"Roy, are you alright?" Johnny asked without moving from his spot.

"I'm fine."

"Well, you don't look fine to me."

"Goes to show just how much you know." Roy shut off the water flow. The muscles of his shoulders stiffened briefly under his shirt as he grabbed the rim of the sink with both hands. The paramedic forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths which seemed to dissipate the tension that had taken hold of his body moments before. When he swivelled his head to his right, his shoulders slumped heavily and when he spoke, his voice had lost its angry edge. "Look, it's been a long shift. All I want is a hot shower, a handful of Aspirin, and eight hours worth of undisturbed sleep."

Johnny carefully gauged his partner. Obviously, Roy was upset over the death of the young victim in the same way that he, himself, was affected by it. He knew that both of them would have to find a way to deal with the loss eventually and talking through their feelings of helplessness and failure would be an unavoidable part of the process in order for them to move forward. They would never be able to do their jobs efficiently if they remained hung up on the victims they couldn't save and he knew that his partner was painfully aware of that fact. For the time being, Johnny wondered how he could gently remind his partner of the paramedic's rule number one but before he had the chance to verbalize his thoughts, Roy snatched his turnout coat and stomped past him out of the washroom. Johnny had to quicken his pace to catch up to his partner and when Roy rushed past Dixie's desk without so much as a glance towards the puzzled head nurse, the dark-headed man could only toss her an apologetic shrug.

"Bye, Dix."

"Take care, you two."

Dixie McCall let her gaze trail pensively after the young paramedics. Sometimes she couldn't help the maternal instinct that surfaced whenever these young men crossed her path and, not for the first time since meeting them, she wished that she could shield them from the world of pain and suffering that greeted them daily.

When Johnny walked up to the squad that was parked outside Rampart emergency he was stunned to find his partner already seated in the passenger side, and the keys dangling from the ignition. Johnny found this particularly odd given that he still had his own set of keys in his trouser pocket. Roy had put in his own key, sending Johnny a clear message:

'_You drive.'_

As senior paramedic, Roy rarely, if ever, relinquished his driving privileges apart from allowing Johnny to follow the ambulance when Roy accompanied a victim to the hospital. Baffled by his partner's unusual behaviour, Johnny walked over to the driver's side and slid behind the wheel. He set the handie-talkie between them and studied the man next to him. Roy slouched as he stared straight ahead, distractedly rubbing his hands together. Johnny also noticed that his friend's complexion was paler than usual and dark circles underlined his eyes, which, he could have sworn, had already taken on a duller tinge.

"Now, don't go kicking yourself, Roy," Johnny began in his professional soothing tone. "We did our best. You knew going in what the odds were for her to survive."

Johnny's words were met by silence. He was about to carry on with his lecture when Roy snatched the radio and contacted Central.

"Squad 51 available. Returning to quarters from Rampart General," Roy informed dispatch. Without looking at his partner, he replaced the handset in its slot under the dashboard and resumed staring out of the window.

"Squad 51," dispatch acknowledged over the static.

Johnny glanced once more at his lethargic friend. When Roy didn't stir, he let out a sigh and started the engine. The rest of the shift would be a long one, he thought as he pulled out onto the main road.

***

The wall clock read 8:46 when Johnny backed up the squad in the station's apparatus bay later that evening. The motor was not yet idle when Roy thrust the door open, jumped out of the vehicle without uttering a word and disappeared inside the dorm. Johnny turned off the ignition and slowly stepped out of the vehicle. He buried his hands in his pockets, closed his eyes and leaned back against the driver side door. Roy had been silent the entire ride home from Rampart, staring out of the side window the whole time. He had completely ignored the light conversation topics Johnny had initiated, eventually forcing the younger man to give up trying altogether. Maybe Roy was right, Johnny thought, and all he needed was some time alone to help him put things back in perspective. On the other hand, maybe it was time someone gave his partner a friendly kick in the behind to help him snap out of his self-destructing mood. The paramedic was weighing his options when Chet Kelly's voice behind him interrupted his train of thoughts.

"Hey, Gage, what's wrong with Roy? I asked him if he wanted to play a hand of poker and he pushed past me without saying a word."

"If he ignored you, then there's nothing wrong with him, Chet," Johnny replied mechanically, pinching the bridge of his nose. Between the exhausting run and his partner's gloomy disposition, he was starting to feel a tension headache building up.

"What's the matter Gage," Kelly taunted, oblivious to the tense mood, "that nurse of yours dumped you at the hospital?"

"Why don't you go play in traffic, Chet?" Johnny snapped, pushing past the shorter man towards the kitchen.

The fireman followed closely and would have pursued his teasing had Captain Van Orden—who was seated at the table with the rest of his crew—not stopped him short in his tracks with a warning glare. Chastised, the fireman silently reclaimed his seat among his shift mates and picked up the hand of cards he had been dealt.

Oblivious to the four pairs of eyes that were trained on him, Johnny opened the refrigerator door and grabbed the milk carton. Jiggling it back and forth, the paramedic estimated that there were only a few sips of milk left. He reached for the cabinet door where the glasses were stored and, opting to minimize his cleaning chore afterwards, changed his mind. Unfolding the spout, the paramedic brought the carton to his mouth and finished the milk in one long swig to the chorus of: "Aw, come on, Gage," and "Use a glass, Johnny."

His mouth still full, Johnny shrugged ruefully to his crewmates and threw the empty carton in the garbage can. He declined the invitation to join in the card game and headed towards the locker room. As he reached the dorm room, his progress was halted by a hand on his shoulder. Surprised, the paramedic pivoted around to face his superior.

"Gage, is everything okay?"

"Yes, Cap. It's just that… Well, I'm kinda beat so I'll turn in early if it's all right with you."

The fire captain nodded his understanding. Looking over his paramedic's shoulder he noticed that Roy was already lying down in his bunk, seemingly asleep. He turned a concerned gaze back to Johnny. "Is DeSoto all right?"

The dark-haired paramedic hesitated slightly before giving his boss what he hoped was an honest answer. "He will be, Cap. Nothing that a restful night of sleep won't fix."

"We sure could use more of those around here," the captain agreed. He remained in his spot a few seconds longer, closely observing his subordinate. Once he determined that there was nothing else he could do for either of his men for the time being, he dismissed the paramedic for the night. "Okay, then. Good night."

"Good night, Cap," Johnny replied, halfway to the shower.

Settling down under the covers for the night, Johnny looked one last time at his partner's sleeping form. He hoped that time and rest would eventually soften the memory of the day's events. Positioning his left arm over his eyes, he prayed that the only tones they would hear would be the wake-up bell the following morning. Fortunately that night, someone did answer the prayers of exhausted firemen.

***

_Saturday, May 20, 1972_

As soon as the wake-up tones sounded, Johnny noticed that his partner's bunk was empty. He got out of bed and sprinted towards the locker room where he quickly donned a clean uniform. Entering the kitchen in search of caffeine, the paramedic was pleased to see his partner absorbed in his breakfast-fixing task. The uneventful night had apparently succeeded in lifting Roy's spirits. Pouring fresh coffee in a cup, Johnny playfully stuck an elbow in his partner's ribs.

"Got up early this morning?"

"Yeah. Woke up at five and couldn't go back to sleep." Roy flipped a pancake. "So I decided to fix breakfast for everybody."

"Well, I'm just glad you're feeling better," Johnny declared with a grin.

Roy managed a sheepish smile. "Yeah. Sorry about yesterday. It was tough, you know?"

Johnny sobered at the sad memory. "Yeah, I know. Want to talk about it?"

"No," Roy shook his head, casting his gaze downwards. He moved the cooked pancakes onto a plate and poured more pancake batter in the skillet. "Not now, anyway."

Johnny clasped his friend's shoulder before finding his seat at the table.

Once everybody had gathered for breakfast, Roy placed a serving platter containing buttered pancakes and bacon on the table. The firemen, with the exception of the morning cook who would eat his breakfast at home in the company of his family, wolfed down the food appreciatively.

The remaining time until the end of their shift was spent by taking care of routine details that were typical of every shift change. When the paramedics of B-shift relieved them, Roy and Johnny walked out together to the parking lot. As Johnny climbed into his Land Rover, Roy called to him from his Porsche.

"See you tomorrow afternoon?"

"You bet," the young paramedic answered with his customary smile and watched as his partner weaved his way around the Saturday morning shopping traffic. Turning his key in the ignition, Johnny looked around at the faintly changing landscape that promised the advent of warmth and sunshine. Sometimes, he determined, it felt good to be alive.

*******

The sound of a sports car's engine being turned off in the driveway alerted Joanne DeSoto of her husband's arrival. As was her usual routine on the mornings Roy came home from his shift, Joanne greeted her husband at the door. She laced her arms around his neck and kissed him lightly on the lips. Ending the kiss gently, Roy dropped the duffel bag containing his personal effects on the floor and seized his wife in a tight embrace. They stood in the doorway for several seconds, Roy hanging on silently to Joanne's slim waist as if he was hanging on to a lifeline from a burning tower. Sensing the quiet desperation in Roy's posture, the woman allowed her husband to take whatever he needed at the moment from her and didn't move until Roy decided to break the embrace. When soft hands cupped his cheeks, Roy didn't try to escape his wife's inquisitive gaze. Joanne readily noticed the dark circles under her husband's eyes and the unusual pallor of his skin.

"Bad shift," Joanne concluded from her brief inspection.

"Yeah," Roy confirmed in a subdued voice.

When he didn't say anything else, Joanne gently kissed her husband on the lips once more and removed her hands from his face. She stepped aside to allow him to go through the narrow hallway knowing what his next destination would be. She picked up the abandoned duffel bag, carried it to the laundry room and watched as Roy made his way to the small kitchen where his children were sitting, finishing their breakfast.

"Daddy, daddy!" squealed three-year-old Jennifer as she wiggled down her chair, making her way around the breakfast table. She stopped directly in front of her father and stretched her arms upward, wordlessly commanding him to pick her up in his arms. Roy happily complied and was rewarded with a sticky kiss on the cheek and a fierce hug around his neck.

"Hey there, Pixie," he said, kissing his daughter back. "Have you been good to your mommy while I was gone?"

The little girl nodded enthusiastically at her father's customary question when he returned home from work. "I helped mommy make your breakfast, daddy."

"You did, huh?" Roy playfully tickled her daughter's belly. She squirmed and shrieked in delight in her father's grasp, her pure laughter bringing a smile to his face. "Did you put playdough in daddy's pancakes?"

The question only succeeded in launching the little girl in another fit of giggles. "No, daddy! I use playdough only when I play pretend eating," she explained as her father kissed her nose.

Roy turned his attention to his son who was now standing next to him, shuffling from one foot to another, impatiently awaiting his turn to greet his father. Settling Jennifer in the crook of his left arm, he squatted next to Chris and stretched his right arm in an open invitation to come closer. The young boy settled himself against his father's thigh, buried his face in his shoulder and hugged his neck.

"Hi, dad," came the muffled greeting.

"Hi, Tiger," Roy said, kissing the five-year-old's cheek. "And have you been a good boy while I was gone?"

"Yep." The boy let go of his father's neck but snuggled further against his chest. "I helped mommy with your breakfast, too," Chris said, not wanting his contribution to the morning chore go unnoticed. "I scrambled the eggs in the bowl."

"Good boy." Roy squeezed his son closer to him and rested his chin on top of Chris' ginger locks.

Roy looked from one child to the other. Tuning out their chatter for a moment, he focused on the tiny fingers that played with the light-coloured curls above his ear and the maple-scented breath of his daughter that brushed against his cheek as she recounted in great details the day he had missed while he had been at work. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to feel the warmth radiating from his children, their quick heartbeats pulsating under his grasp. Once he was satisfied that they were both very much alive, he opened his eyes and spotted Joanne's form towering over him. He met her worried gaze with a smile.

"I think I'm ready to eat my breakfast, now," Roy announced, looking directly into Joanne's eyes. He interpreted her slight frown as '_Are you all right?_' He hugged his children one last time before putting them down on the floor. As he raised himself from his crouched position, he kissed his wife on the cheek both in answer to her unspoken question and in gratefulness of her understanding.

"You heard your father, kids," Joanne said as she guided her children back to their seats so they could finish their meal. "Let's finish breakfast."

Roy seated himself in his reserved chair at one end of the table while Joanne placed a warmed plate of toasts, eggs and bacon in front of him. Before joining her family at the breakfast table, the woman lingered behind her husband for a while, resting her head against his cheek and cupping his left hand with hers in a show of silent support, taking comfort in the fact that this subtle gesture carried far more meaning than words ever could.

*******

Joanne took advantage of a few hours of solitude while Roy was taking his morning nap and the kids were in the den playing _Candy Land_ under the supervision of the family dog, a two-year-old chocolate-coloured Labrador named Shadow, to wash a few loads of laundry before fixing lunch for her family. She was glad she had completed her grocery shopping on Friday so the rest of the afternoon could be spent enjoying family activities. Maybe they'll head out to the park after Roy's nap. It was a balmy May day and she wanted the kids to enjoy a bit of fresh air. Chris would ride his bike and Jenny would have fun on the swing as long as her dad pushed her higher and faster.

She picked up the duffel bag her husband had carried in with him earlier and opened it, rummaging through its contents. As it was customary at the end of every shift, Roy brought back his civilian clothes to be washed before his next shift. Also, even though Roy sent out his uniform trousers to be dry-cleaned, he usually brought back his uniform shirts home for Joanne to wash, preferring the feel of fabric softener on his skin than the itchy chemicals left by dry cleaning.

Therefore Joanne was not surprised to glimpse the light blue clothing in the midst of all the white underwear. She stifled a gasp, however, when she retrieved the shirt and saw that most of the front was streaked with a brownish red tint. Though Roy's uniform shirts were frequently covered in various bodily fluids due to the nature of his job and that she was no stranger to seeing blood speckle the light blue material, the amount that had been absorbed by the fabric prompted in her mind images of pulsating wounds and arterial bleeding. Her first reaction was to reverse the material to make sure that the stain had originated from the exterior of the shirt and not from inside. Satisfied that she had not been staring at her husband's blood, Joanne filled the sink with cold water and went to the kitchen, returning with the box of table salt. She dropped a handful of crystals in the sink and submerged the garment in the solution. She would try to soak the shirt for an hour before tackling the stain with detergent, a brush and elbow grease. She did not think, however, that she would be able to completely remove the bloodied stain, just as she did not believe that her husband would be able to completely erase this particular rescue from his memory any time soon. Nevertheless, just like she did by soaking the soiled cloth, she would try to expunge the stain that had tarnished part of her husband's being. However, she knew from experience that some stains, even those barely visible to the naked eye, affixed themselves so stubbornly that they permanently altered whatever they touched. She could always throw the ruined shirt away. Where could she go to replace a tainted soul?

***

Joanne softly opened the master bedroom door. She had stopped by the den a few minutes earlier to remind her children that their father was trying to sleep and to keep their voices down. From the doorway, she observed her husband's sleeping form. He was lying on his left side, facing the window, the blanket covering him up to his shoulder. His torso rose slightly with each inhalation. Without making a sound, Joanne entered the room and left the door ajar so that she could still hear the children in the next room. She slipped out of her shoes and slid noiselessly under the covers, snuggling close to her husband. She laid there without moving for several minutes, drawing comfort from the warmth his sleeping body generated as well as the rhythmic breaths that escaped through his partly opened mouth. With Roy's back turned towards her, Joanne examined the way his reddish curls coiled behind his ears; his muscular shoulders that always seemed ready to support the weight of the world as well as the limp body of a victim; his strong back trained to carry fire hoses up and down burning buildings, yet available to play horsy whenever his children asked.

To an external observer, Roy embodied the typical fireman persona: strong, tough, resilient, self-assured and courageous. Underneath the constant show of strength, however, Joanne was also aware—as only intimacy can develop such understanding between two human beings—of the sensitivity that coursed deeply through her husband's being. She felt it in his embrace whenever he held her and caressed her, she saw it in the tender way he tucked in his children at night, and she heard it in his soft-spoken voice each time he said 'I love you'.

But ever since Roy had undertaken his new role as a fire department paramedic almost five months ago, Joanne noticed something else that was increasingly reflected in his warm blue eyes when he came home from his shift: pain and vulnerability. She had come to recognize the haunting look at first sight and every time she pressed her husband for details, all he offered by way of explanation was that he had a 'bad shift' or that he had not slept much. Even though she suspected that Roy tried very hard to shield her from the horrors his job exposed him to, Joanne could easily imagine the sort of life and death decisions her husband had to make daily.

No longer able to contain her admiration and love for her husband and craving the physical contact that she hoped would bring them both comfort, the woman slipped her right arm below Roy's rib cage and encircled the sleeping man's waist. She closed her eyes and moved her hand up and down his chest, enjoying the soft feel of his cotton undershirt on her bare skin. Roy stirred lightly under her touch. Encouraged by the movement, Joanne nuzzled her husband's neck where she proceeded to plant soft kisses. She only stopped her ministrations when Roy rolled over to face her. Self-consciously brushing a hand through his dishevelled hair, he blinked repeatedly in an attempt to dispel the remnants of his afternoon slumber. When the world came back into focus, Roy smiled fondly at the vision that greeted him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," she lied, not bothering to hide her smile and the twinkle in her eye.

"That's okay. I need to get up anyway," Roy said, stretching. "What time is it?"

"Almost one o'clock."

Reaching a hand around his wife's body, he pulled her close to him and rested his chin on her auburn hair.

"The kids already ate lunch?"

"Mmm-mm," Joanne replied, running her fingers along the hem of Roy's undershirt. "Vegetable soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. I'll fix you a plate if you like."

"Sounds good," Roy said, though he did not make any move to get up.

The couple remained in this position for a long time, holding each other close and listening to the muted chatter coming from the other room. Roy was about to surrender to sleep again when Joanne's tentative voice drew him from his lethargy.

"Your shirt is soaking."

"Which shirt?" he asked, drowsily.

"The one with the blood stain."

Fully awake now, Roy frowned in confusion. "You found the shirt in my bag?"

"Huh-uh." Joanne closely scrutinized her husband's expression.

The paramedic shrugged as he untangled his body from his wife's embrace. He swung his legs off the bed, turning his back to her. "Sorry. I didn't mean to bring it back. I must have put it in my bag out of habit, I suppose."

"That's okay. I'll see if I can scrub it later."

Roy pulled on a pair of blue jeans. "That's not necessary. I already put in a request to headquarters for another shirt." Moving to the dresser, he opened the bottom drawer and picked up a grey L.A. County Fire Department sweatshirt.

Fiddling with the bedspread, Joanne ignored her husband's bustle. "Then if I get the stain out, you'll have a spare shirt." As an afterthought, she added, "There was a lot of blood."

"Yeah," Roy finally sighed in reply, after a long moment of silence had elapsed.

"What happened?"

Roy slumped down on the edge of the mattress, keeping his back turned to his wife. There was a long pause while the paramedic seemed thoroughly absorbed by the examination of his fingernails. "There was an accident," he said finally. "Johnny and I took care of a victim. It took some time before we could control the bleeding. I guess my shirt received most of it."

Kneeling behind her husband on the bed, Joanne wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek. "You can talk to me, you know."

"There's nothing to tell," he said, without looking at her.

"You're lying and that worries me," she said, resolve colouring her voice.

Roy spun around so that he peered directly in his wife's eyes. "Anne, I assure you, you have nothing to worry about."

"But I do worry, Roy. I'm aware of the constant risks your job entails and I know what I signed up for when I accepted to be a fireman's wife. I can deal with the fear of losing you constantly hovering in the back of my mind every time you go on duty; I can deal with the feeling of paralyzing terror every time the phone rings in the middle of the night; I can deal with you being away from me for twenty-four-hour periods; I can deal with being both the mother and the father to our children one day out of three. As long as you come back to me at the end of each shift, I don't mind being a fireman's wife."

She paused as she shifted her body to face Roy and clasp his hands.

"But since you became a paramedic you've become, I don't know… more distant. Sometimes when you come home from work it's like you're not entirely here. Your body is here but your mind is still back at work. I know that you must see a lot of pain and suffering on the job, things that I know ought to affect you deeply even though you try painstakingly to hide it from me. From us. I know you don't want to bring your work home with you but it's not good for you if you bottle things up inside. I just want you to know that I am here for you, that you can count on me to listen and understand." Her voice caught on the last statement. "Let me help, Roy."

Roy pulled his wife in a tight embrace, his hand soothingly stroking her back. "You do help, honey," he whispered, gently rocking her body back and forth. "You and the kids… you help more than you know."

Joanne allowed the comfort she drew from her husband's touch to wash over her, all the time wondering why, when love was concerned, nothing ever seemed enough.

***

_Sunday, May 21, 1972_

Joanne leaned over the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables for the chicken casserole she was baking for their evening meal. While planning the dinner party last Thursday, she had asked Roy what kind of food John liked. Her husband had tossed her an enigmatic smile and said that whatever she decided to prepare would be fine since Johnny would probably eat anything not bolted down to the table. Figuring from Roy's comment that John had a growing teenager's appetite, she had opted for her heirloom recipe of chicken casserole on rice, which earned her praise each time she made it as well as ensuring enough leftovers to cover a couple of weekday meals.

As she browned the chicken pieces in a skillet, Joanne wondered why she had first insisted to invite John Gage over for dinner. On one hand, he and Roy were partners and it was only natural to invite your husband's partner over to your house for a home-cooked meal once in a while, especially when said partner was single and had no family in town. When she had first proposed the idea to Roy, he had joked about her wishing to gauge the man that was ultimately responsible for his safety in an emergency situation. She had automatically denied the insinuation at the time although part of her secretly agreed with her husband's observation. Maybe she did wish to affix her own seal of approval on her husband's partner. More likely, however, her invitation probably stemmed from the way John had appeared undernourished when she had first glimpsed at him at Dixie McCall's apartment last August, when the fate of the paramedic program was still being debated over by politicians. He simply looked like he could benefit from a home-cooked meal under his belt and so she took it upon herself to put some meat on John Gage's skinny frame.

She had just put the casserole in the oven when the doorbell rang. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and called out to her husband in the backyard through the small window over the sink.

"Roy, John's here."

"I'll be right there," her husband said, throwing a final baseball to his son, while Jenny sat a few feet away in the sand box, burying her dolls and "rescuing" them with the red, plastic fire engine.

When Joanne opened the front door, she found John Gage standing on the porch, his right hand behind his back, shifting his gaze from one foot to the other. She thought he looked like a nervous ten-year-old boy who had just been sent to the principal's office, despite how handsome he looked clad in a long-sleeve linen shirt the colour of burnt sienna tucked tightly in a pair of tan slacks that hugged his slim waist. Smiling to herself, Joanne ushered her guest inside.

"Come on in, John. I'm so glad you could come."

"Well, thank you for inviting me," the paramedic said, producing a florist arrangement of daisies from behind his back and presenting it to Joanne.

"Oh, John, they're lovely. Thank you so much," the woman said as she accepted the bouquet, taking pleasure from their sweet fragrance. "You didn't have to do that."

Johnny smiled self-consciously, lowering his head while looking up bashfully at Joanne through his long eyelashes. The woman couldn't help but smile. She imagined that this particular expression must have pulled John Gage out of a few tough situations in his life.

"Hey, I suffer through 24-hour shifts in close quarters with you and you've never given me any flowers," Roy said as he joined his wife and partner in the hallway. He shook Johnny's hand in greeting.

"Well, Pally, you— you get to enjoy my company. That ought to be better than flowers. Don't ya think?" Johnny replied with a wink in the woman's direction.

"I sincerely doubt that," Roy grumbled as he led Johnny to the living room while Joanne headed for the kitchen in search of a vase in which to put the flowers. Glancing out the window, she checked on her children. Chris had joined Jenny in the sandbox where both children were now burying everything in sight despite Shadow's enthusiastic efforts to dig up their toys.

"Kids," Joanne called out to them. "Come inside for a second to say hello to Mr. Gage."

"In a minute, mom," Chris pleaded, dragging his Tonka truck in the bumpy sand.

"Now, Chris," His mother reiterated firmly. "You, too, Jenny. Leave the dog outside and come inside."

Once she had put the flowers in water, Joanne examined the two dishevelled children who stood beside her. Noting their dusty appearance, she picked up a damp facecloth and gave their hands and faces a quick clean up. When she deemed that the kids were presentable enough, she escorted them to the living room where they found their father and his friend sitting on the sofa. Both men stood as the trio stepped into the room.

"John, I'd like you to meet Chris and Jenny," Joanne said, standing behind her children, her hands resting affectionately on each child's shoulder. "Kids, say hello to Mr. Gage."

"Hello, Mr. Gage." Under his father's proud gaze, Chris stepped forward and extended his small hand towards the dark-haired man. Johnny crouched down in order to be at the kids' eye level and shook the boy's hand.

"Hello, Chris. It's nice to meet you. But you can call me Johnny."

"Do you play catch, Johnny?"

"You bet I do. Do you?"

"Sure."

"Are you any good?" Johnny asked with mock scepticism.

"Of course," the boy replied in childish indignation. "I can catch the ball even when dad throws it straight like a real pitcher and I don't even drop it. Want me to show you?"

Before Johnny could answer, Roy intervened. "Not now, Chris. Johnny is visiting with your mother and me. He'll play with you later if he wants to."

"Wanna play later, Johnny?" Chris asked expectantly.

"You bet, sport," he said, playfully tugging the boy's nose.

Johnny turned to the little girl who had now sought refuge behind her mother's leg. From her position she had closely monitored his every move.

"Hello, Jenny, I'm Johnny," the young man said with his best persuasive smile as he extended his hand towards the little girl. The attention seemed only to intimidate the three-year-old further and she buried her face in her mother's pant leg.

Joanne tugged at the small body that had embedded itself in her thigh. "Come on, Jenny. Say hello."

When the girl refused to move, Johnny gently nudged her belly before rising.

"It's okay, sweetie. We can say hello later if you want."

Roy looked on at the one-way discussion between his partner and his daughter. Although the three-year-old shied away from his friendly partner, Roy was somehow convinced that Jenny would be warming up to Johnny before long. More than mere bedside manners, Johnny exuded a certain charisma that had a way of chiselling away at people's defences until he unfailingly won them over. This underlying magnetism not only worked on securing dates with hostile nurses but on soothing frightened patients and distraught relatives as well. Sometimes, Roy realized in astonishment, it even worked on him. His mood was certainly lighter when Johnny bounced about the station, talking excitedly about his pet project of the moment.

Dismissing the children back to the yard to resume their play, Joanne and Roy guided John for a tour of the bungalow. A knock at the kitchen door interrupted their progress. Through the screen door Roy recognized his neighbour from three houses down. Roy stepped outside to confer with him while Joanne finished showing Johnny around the house. A minute later, he returned inside, grabbing the keys to the garage that were suspended from a nail next to the door.

"Gary needs to borrow my extension ladder to nail down a row of shingles on his roof. I'm gonna go over and give him a hand."

"Do you need my help?" Johnny offered.

"No, you stay here," Roy said. "Anyway, I'm just going to hold the ladder for him. I do enough climbing on the job." Kissing his wife on top of her head, he said, "I'll be back in half an hour"

Once her husband had left, Joanne led Johnny to the kitchen and motioned for him to sit down. She offered him a tall glass of iced tea that he graciously accepted. She poured herself a glass as well and sat down across from her guest.

"So, tell me, John. How is Dolores?"

"Who?" Johnny knitted his brow as he tried to place the name.

"The woman who accompanied you at Dixie's for your birthday party."

Johnny let out an embarrassed chuckle when he recalled the blond woman that he had dated for a couple of weeks almost nine months ago.

"Uh… Well, I'm not really seeing her anymore."

"Oh," Joanne said, suddenly having the feeling that she had made a blunder. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry…"

"It's okay, it's all right," Johnny assured her with a sincere smile. "I'm not really an expert in long-term relationships," he confessed sheepishly, taking a sip of iced tea. "Well, not like you and Roy, anyway."

Joanne smiled lovingly at the mention of her husband. "Well, I've been lucky. Roy has been my one and only guy," she conceded. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

While the kids played outside, Joanne and Johnny conversed easily on a variety of topics. They talked about Johnny's firefighting experience, the paramedic program, the children, and books neither of them had time to read. Joanne found it easy to talk to Johnny, like finding a long lost friend. No matter what she was saying, the young man seemed genuinely interested and listened to her attentively. This unexpected side of him that poked through the cheeky façade caught Joanne by surprise. When she had met John Gage nine months ago, her first impression of him had been one of hot-headedness, arrogance and selfishness. Nothing in his behaviour at the time had hinted at the compassion and solicitude that were now reflected in his expressive brown eyes. Then again, she imagined that those traits were exactly what made him the good paramedic her husband assured her that he was. Their conversation was abruptly interrupted when Chris stormed in through the back door.

"Mommy, mommy. You have to come outside. Jenny's hurt. She's bleeding," the little boy said in a frantic voice.

Joanne rose from her seat and took her son's hand. "Calm down, Chris. What happened?"

Johnny, who had stood up when Chris had made his entrance, had moved to the back door and was now peering in the yard to where Jennifer DeSoto sat crying, her knees brought up under her chin. The Labrador had instinctively rested his head on the little girl's lap in an attempt to comfort his human companion.

"She fell down from the swing," Chris recounted as his mother ran into the yard, followed by her son and Johnny.

Yanking the dog out of the way, Joanne knelt down next to her sobbing daughter and stroked the little girl's light-brown hair, uttering shushing sounds in an effort to appease her.

"It's okay, Jenny. Where are you hurt?"

"My knee…" she managed to answer between sobs.

Joanne lifted the little girl's hand that covered the injured body part and closely examined the wound. Most of the skin of the right patella had been superficially scraped and although sand and dust speckled the abrasion, no other fragments were embedded in the wound.

"Chris, go inside and get me the first aid kit," Joanne instructed her son. "It's in the bathroom under the sink." Obeying, he dashed towards the house.

"No, I want daddy," the little girl protested. "Daddy makes my owies better."

"Jenny, daddy is not here right now. Mommy will make you feel better, I promise," the young woman soothed when Chris returned with a small, white metal box sporting a large red cross on its lid.

"No!" the girl cried resolutely, grabbing her hurt knee with both hands. "I want daddy!"

Joanne shot a pleading look to Johnny who was kneeling beside her. Taking the first aid kit from Joanne's hands, he took her place in front of the wounded girl.

"Hey, Jenny. How about I take a look at your knee, huh?"

The unexpected proposition seemed to freeze the three-year-old. Her sobs receded slightly as she scrutinized the dark-haired stranger before her.

"Daddy is a _parmedic_," she sniffled uncertainly. "That means he makes my owies better."

"Well, I'm a paramedic, too, sweetie. As a matter of fact, I'm your daddy's partner. Do you know what partners are?"

"It's like Reed and Malloy, right?" Chris answered eagerly. "They're partners because they get to ride in the same police car and fight the bad guys together."

Joanne DeSoto frowned at her son. "How would you know so much about a TV show that airs at the same time you are supposed to be asleep, young man?"

Chris lowered his gaze to the ground, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Uh… I can see the TV from my room if I open my door a little."

Joanne glared silently at the guilt-ridden boy while Johnny tried to hide his smile.

"You're right, Chris," the dark-headed man continued, "your dad and I work together, and we ride in the squad together, and we help people together. That's why we are partners."

"Do you fight bad guys?" the boy asked excitedly even though his father had thoroughly explained to him what his job as fireman and paramedic exactly entailed.

"Nope." He gently poked the little boy's belly. "We only fight fires. But sometimes we help people when they are hurt."

"Do you help people who hurt their knee?" Jenny asked, steering the conversation back to her.

"We sure do, sweetheart. Well, just the other day your daddy and I helped a little girl who hurt her knee just like you." Johnny deliberately failed to mention that there hadn't been anything else below the knee for them to take care of at the time.

"What did you do?" she asked, curiosity making her momentarily forget the stinging sensation on her knee.

The paramedic reached in the first aid kit and took a pad of disinfectant. He tore the aluminium wrap and retrieved the moist towellette. "Well, I took this and I cleaned her knee so that it didn't sting anymore," he said, holding up the item so the little girl could see it. "Do you want me to try it on your knee?"

The little girl took a ragged breath. She slowly nodded her head. "O… Okay."

While the little girl tightly squeezed her mother's hand, Johnny cleaned the wound, being careful not to brush too hard against the abrasions. When he was done, he reached again in the metal box and retrieved a package of 2x2 gauze and a roll of adhesive tape. He applied the sterile dressing on the wound and secured it with two strips of tape.

Johnny looked down on his handy work and contemplatively rubbed his chin in a mock stance of reflection. When he raised his head, his brown eyes met the little girl's.

"I think it needs something else," he said pointing to the bandaged knee.

"What?" The youngster was spellbound as she watched the young man's every move.

Johnny seemed to consider the question for a moment. "I know," he said finally, snapping his fingers in a triumphant gesture. He reached again in the metal box and found a band-aid and a pen. Turning away from the little girl, Johnny pulled out the band-aid from its envelope and scribbled something on it. When he was done he turned back to the little girl and applied the band-aid on top of the white gauze that covered her knee.

"There. That's much better," he said with a satisfied grin.

Jenny twisted her head so that she could make out the markings on the bandage. She beamed at the picture that had been drawn.

"Look, mommy, it's a heart with a smiling face," she said gleefully.

Joanne gave the paramedic a grateful smile. Looking down at her daughter, she said "It's very pretty. Does your knee still hurt?"

The little girl looked down at her injured knee. The stinging had stopped and since she couldn't see the blood anymore, she felt a little bit better. "No," she replied in a cheery voice. "Can I go play on the swing?"

Joanne rolled her eyes at the typical short-term memory of a three-year-old. What had seemed like a major crisis a few moments ago had apparently been forgotten, buried under a white bandage and a doodle. Joanne wondered how much longer she would be able to shelter her children from the harshness of the world outside.

She frequently envied the secure universe of innocence she and Roy had worked hard at preserving ever since the children had been born where a skinned knee was the worst pain you could feel and a kiss was all that was necessary to make it all better. Looking sideways at the man who worked daily on the frontline of that harshness alongside her husband, she wondered if the two paramedics also longed for that innocence. Watching how Johnny's eyes twinkled at her chattering little girl, she decided that the longing wasn't buried too deeply. If nothing else, the harshness they had to confront each day seemed to bring forth the little boys in them as a reminder of all that was worth fighting for.

***

"Thank you, Joanne. Dinner was delicious," Johnny declared, patting his stomach to prove his point. True to his reputation, Johnny had engulfed second helpings of everything much to the amazement of Jennifer DeSoto who had spent the whole meal munching on a small piece of chicken while sorting out the peas from the rice and pushing them aside.

"Why do I have the feeling that you would have eaten just as enthusiastically if I had placed a couple of TV Dinners on the table?"

"Oh, he would have eaten them, all right," her husband corroborated with what appeared to be the voice of experience. "And anything else you would have put on the table."

"But I wouldn't have enjoyed them as much, though," Johnny added, glaring at his partner.

Joanne chuckled as she gathered the dirty dishes. She had caught herself smiling often during the afternoon and she held their bubbly guest partly responsible for it. From the constant stream of giggles that erupted from her children during the whole meal, she concluded that it was easy to be pulled in John Gage's childlike view of the world. Joanne had even detected a twinkle in Roy's eyes as he listened to one of Johnny's extremely detailed description of his latest camping trip.

Silently observing her husband and his partner, she noted with amusement how the two men seemed to read each other's mind without being aware of it. When Roy passed the salt to his partner, for instance, or when John automatically poured milk in Roy's glass before either man had a chance to voice his request. They even appeared to move in synch with one another, she noted as the men lifted their forks simultaneously to eat the slices of chocolate cake she had served.

***

After dinner, Johnny had delighted Chris by playing a few rounds of catch with him while Roy sat with his daughter on his lap, watching from the sidelines. When Joanne summoned her children inside for their bedtime routine, the men retreated to the back porch to unwind. Once Chris and Jenny had taken their bath, Joanne had allowed them to go outside for a few minutes to kiss their father goodnight. Johnny had been touched when Chris unexpectedly hugged him as he said goodnight and Jenny climbed onto his knees so that she could plant a kiss on his cheek.

Rolling up his sleeves, Johnny accepted the mug filled with coffee his partner handed him and leaned back in one of the lawn chairs Roy had placed on the small back porch, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Have you read the bulletin board before leaving on Friday?" he asked, taking a sip of coffee.

"No, I didn't get the chance. What's up?"

"Van Orden's being transferred out of 51 at the end of the month."

"Really?" Roy blew on the hot liquid before taking a careful sip. "Who are we getting?"

"A guy named Hank Stanley."

Roy considered the name for a moment, seemingly searching his memory. "Don't know him."

"Well, whoever he is, I just hope he's sympathetic to the paramedic program."

Roy nodded his assent. As of next month, the men of A-shift will have changed leadership twice in less than a year. For Roy and Johnny, their dual role as both firemen and paramedics granted them the dubious honour of working under the supervision of not one but two bosses: the station's fire captain, who oversaw their performance as firemen, and Dr. Kelly Brackett, who supervised the medical aspect of their job. The last thing they needed was an old-school fireman who would spend the shift bemoaning the paramedics' extracurricular duties. Roy was still imagining the future when his partner's voice brought him back to the present.

"Your kids are really something."

"Yes, they are." Roy smiled affectionately at the image his mind automatically conjured up of his two energetic offspring who were currently fighting their mother's efforts to put them to bed. "By the way, thanks for taking care of Jenny's knee while I was out."

"No sweat. I can tell that she has spunk," the dark-haired man commented.

"That she has," Roy agreed. "I think she takes after her mother."

"Well, I don't know about that. Her father can be pretty hard-headed when he wants to be," Johnny teased.

"Talk about the pot calling the kettle black," Roy said defensively, placing his empty mug on the round, plastic table between them.

Both men sat in companionable silence listening to the song of crickets as they watched the sun descend slowly behind the surrounding hills of southern California. After several minutes, Roy finally broke the silence and Johnny had to strain his hearing to hear the whispered words.

"She called me daddy."

Johnny set his mug down on the table and sat up attentively.

"Who did?" Johnny gently prodded when Roy didn't go on.

"Jennifer. The little girl who was hit by the train." Roy looked over at his friend to make sure that he understood what he was talking about. When Johnny nodded, Roy continued. "In the helicopter on the way to the hospital, she was slipping away and she became more confused and disoriented. I guess she thought I was her father. She kept saying 'Daddy, my legs hurt'. All I could do was hold her hand and tell her that everything was going to be okay. I never felt so helpless in my life."

The senior paramedic threw out his hands in a gesture of defeat. He looked down, suddenly engrossed in the observation of his feet.

"Roy, between the blood loss, the trauma and the shock, the damage was just too great. There's not one more thing you could have done," Johnny emphasized, catching his partner's gaze.

"I realize that. Hell, I _knew_ it at the scene but I couldn't bring myself to believe it. That's what gets to me."

"What does?"

"I'm a professional. I'm not supposed to get emotionally involved with the patients but I couldn't help it on that run. When I first laid eyes on her tiny body it's like my head knew she wouldn't last but my heart couldn't accept it. Somehow I convinced myself that if I tried hard enough I could save her."

"Roy, our skills and our equipment, they can only help us do so much, ya know. The rest, well, it's up to the patients, and the doctors, and…" Johnny let his voice trail. He wasn't sure he wanted to bring God up in the conversation, which would inevitably launch a philosophical debate about the purpose of an omnipotent being that allowed ten-year-old little girls to die, crushed under a train.

"She was just a child, Johnny. A baby. And even though she was ten years old, it's my baby's face I kept seeing." Roy's voice quivered with an emotion that Johnny suspected wasn't used to rise so close to the surface. "You know, I've been playing the rescue in my mind since Friday and no matter what I do, it always ends the same way. That's when I realized something."

"What?"

Roy paused before answering. When he spoke, he had resumed staring at his feet.

"I realized that if it had been one of my children who had been pinned under that train I wouldn't have been able to save them either. None of my skills, or experience, or motivation would have made a damn difference and that scares the shit out of me."

Johnny closed his eyes briefly at his partner's revelation. Roy had voiced what every paramedic secretly feared every time they went out on a call. Not the fact that they were fallible. Heck, he had learned that he wasn't perfect a long time ago and he didn't pretend to be. What frightened him was the realization that in the end, their skills didn't really matter. In a given emergency situation they would follow the proper medical procedures they had learned and, if they were lucky, their patients lived. In a similar situation, however, the same procedures proved useless and their patients died anyway. Despite what they had been led to believe, medicine was more art than science. Too many variables intervened to shape a rescue's outcome such as the patients' age, their health and overall physical condition, the severity and combination of the injuries sustained, luck and time. Regardless of their identity, regardless of how fast or how well the paramedics did their job, regardless of how much they willed them to live, the fate of the victims was ultimately out of their hands. Recognizing the fact that they weren't in control most of the time was unbearable for their perfectionist tendencies. That's why they tried to push that reality to the back of their minds.

At the moment, however, knowing that no words could convey the comfort and the understanding he wanted to give his partner, Johnny reached out his right arm and squeezed his friend's shoulder. When Johnny eventually let his arm drop at his side, the two men remained in their seats, staring silently ahead into the growing darkness.

After several long minutes of mutual silent contemplation, Johnny started to squirm in his seat. Pivoting his head from right to left, he seemed to survey the small backyard. After taking a deep breath he finally broke the silence.

"You know what would look great in your yard, Roy?"

Roy cocked his head towards his partner, recognizing the impish tone of his friend's voice. He smiled expectantly in anticipation of the Gage-style flight of fancy that was sure to follow.

"What's that?"

"A large wooden deck. The kind of deck that goes from your house to halfway through the yard. If you think about it, it's a great way to cut down on your lawn mowing every weekend and it gives you a great place to entertain in the summer. You know, my neighbour knows a guy who could get you lumber at cost. And I've found just the right plans for it. It'll only take you a weekend to build it. Well, I would help you, of course, especially if you invite me over for dinner…"

Roy shook his head, amused by Johnny's monologue. He could always count on his nutty partner to switch a conversation one hundred and eighty degrees without warning. That sort of unpredictability Roy could live with.

Behind them, Joanne wiped empathic tears that had rolled down her cheeks when she finally understood what had bothered her husband for the past two days. From her spot behind the screen door, she had witnessed most of the exchange between her husband and his friend. Standing silently in the kitchen doorway, she smiled to herself as she listened to Johnny's light-hearted prattle.

She marvelled at the way John had succeeded, with patient prodding, in extracting the truth from her soft-spoken husband. Even when he had clasped her husband's shoulder, the comforting gesture had carried a surprising intimacy that almost made her turn her eyes away. Other women, she thought, would have been jealous of that closeness, but not her. As long as Roy's safety was assured, she wouldn't begrudge the close friendship that seemed to have evolved from the men's partnership. On the contrary, she welcomed the extra support when it came to serving her husband's best interests.

Leaving the men to their banter, Joanne moved noiselessly away from the door to check on her sleeping children. John Gage was definitely someone to have in your corner when the odds played against you, she decided, and she was grateful that he was part of her husband's life.

***

Walking her guest to his car, Joanne slipped a green Tupperware dish of leftovers in Johnny's hands, which he eagerly accepted.

"You definitely look like you could eat more home-cooked meals," Joanne declared.

"If that's a standing invitation to come over to eat your home-cooked meals, I agree," Johnny said with a mischievous grin. "Thank you again for inviting me, Joanne. I really enjoyed dinner."

Johnny bent down and pecked the woman's cheek. He was slightly caught by surprise when the woman hugged him around the neck and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"No. Thank _you_, John," Joanne whispered in his ear.

Johnny returned Joanne's embrace with his free hand, tossing a puzzled look at his partner over the woman's shoulder. Equally perplexed, Roy only shrugged in reply. When Joanne released Johnny, allowing him to step inside his car, Roy walked up behind her and tenderly wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Is everything okay, honey?"

As they watched the Land Rover's tail lights recede in the empty street, Joanne allowed the worry and the anxiety that had been her constant companions in the past months to fade away. As long as John Gage remained by his side, Roy would be fine, she decided. _They_ would be fine. Leaning back against her husband's body, she closed her eyes and let herself sway within the comforting embrace.

"It is, now," she said sincerely.

*******

**THE END  
**


End file.
